


Serenade Me, Piano Man

by authoredAria



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Piano, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoredAria/pseuds/authoredAria
Summary: “I know some piano too. Can I show off for you now, Maestro?”-Kent tries to show off his (beginner) piano skills to Holster, gets up showed, and falls a little more in love in a way he didn't think possible.





	Serenade Me, Piano Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daydoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/gifts).



> The summary sucks, the title isn't much better, but there's not much to this. It's near 3k of fluff because I love these boys, Ash talked to me about this whole piano scene, and I couldn't get it out of my head.   
> I will fill the Henny tag with my own blood, sweat, and tears.   
> Call your dentist, you'll need it after this fluff fest.

The Vegas sun was bright, a near blinding light that Kent had grown used to after years of living in the city, a near constant source of warmth that aided in the year round tan that he knew looked good on his skin. Now though, as he walked through the parking lot of McCarren Airport, the sun was not his friend, and the dark sunglasses perched high on his nose showed that. He didn’t remove them, even once inside, walking through the airport towards where Holster had texted him to meet him. The airport was busy, crowded full of all kinds of people, and it made Kent glad he got there fifteen minutes earlier than he knew the flight was due to get in. Settling in, leaning against the wall, he kept his phone out, texting Holster that he was there, before opening up Animal Crossing, because despite his “cool guy” facade he liked to upkeep, Kent was a dork that loved cute games. 

It was a little harder to keep track of time, his focus on the phone in front of him and on trying to avoid anyone recognizing him. Kent just wanted a chill day. The Aces were knocked out of their cup run a bit early, so he wasn’t in the best of moods as far as hockey went, and this was supposed to be the first day of Holster’s stay in Vegas while he enjoyed being a college graduate looking for a job. Kent hadn’t even realized twenty minutes had passed until he heard a familiar, deep voice booming through the white noise of dozens of conversations going at once. By the time Kent lifted his head when he heard his name, he had 6’4” and 220 pounds of man slam into his side and pull him into a hug. Kent couldn’t help but let out a surprised noise before laughing, a bright grin stretching across his lips, not paying mind to if anyone was even looking their way. 

“Hey to you too,” he greeted Holster, hugging the taller man, leaning his head briefly against his chest comfortably. Just being in Holster’s arms again felt like home. They hadn’t been dating long. Under a year, but it was the best time of Kent’s life. He couldn’t have been happier, not in his wildest dreams. “Got your shit?” 

“No, I left it back on the East Coast,” Holster said sarcastically, smirking as he earned an eyeroll from Kent. He pulled his garrishingly bright seafoam green suitcase closer to his side, grinning at Kent. “Ready when you are. Show me to Casa de Parson. I’m begging you. I need to be somewhere not cramped.” The complaints were dramatic, nothing Kent wasn’t used to, nothing he didn’t employ himself.   
“Impatient much?” he asked, nudging Holster’s side as they parted. He still stuck close to his side, hands stuffed in his pockets to refrain from reaching for Holster’s hand to lead him through the airport. Once outside, he barely muffled a snicker as Holster groaned at the brightness of the afternoon sun. “Told ya to bring shades, you giant baby. Car’s this way. You’ll be fine.” 

Holster only whined in response, and Kent was smiling all the while as he led the way to his car, popping the trunk for Holster’s suitcase, lifting it in while shooing his boyfriend off to settle in the passenger seat. Kent could be a gentleman when he wanted to, thank you very much. Walking around to the driver’s side, Kent barely had his door shut before a large hand was gently cupping the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough for Kent’s taste. “Been wanting to do that for ages,” Holster breathed, pressing a quick kiss to Kent’s lips, giving him a broad, crooked grin that Kent absolutely loved having directed at himself. He was sure his own grin was a bit goofy in response, genuine instead of his usual well maintained “media smile”. 

“We do have quite a bit of lost time to make up for in the kissing department,” he joked, and Kent knew it was an awkward phrasing, that it was dorky. With Holster, he didn’t care quite as much about how he sounded. 

He’d been all suave in their first meeting, chatting him up at the Haus, making enough of an impression that when he stalked outside after arguing with Jack, Holster was the only one to follow and check on him. That led to a lot less smooth moves and a lot more of what he’d thought would have been one nice roll in the sheets with a hot guy. Kent hadn’t expected a phone number or a friendship out of the deal. When genuine feelings came up, he had been far less smooth, and much more bumbling and awkward in his attempts to flirt. Somehow he landed Holster though. He had someone to be himself with, to love, and Kent lived for it. 

The drive to his apartment was comfortable. He pointed out any sights he thought Holster would want to visit during the trip, anything that had a funny little anecdote from his years in Vegas, catching up after their time apart. It was difficult, this long distance thing, but Kent had hopes it would get better now that he had some time for the off season and Holster no longer had classes, papers, and finals to worry about. If they hold hands over the center console and just acted sickeningly sweet, no one had to know but them. 

It was a bit nerve wracking once they got to the building Kent lived in and Kent found a parking space. He’d visited Holster as much as he could during the season, whenever he was near enough to see him and their schedules could line up. Holster had never been to Vegas though, had never seen Kent’s apartment beyond some pictures or skype calls. It would be his first time seeing the whole place. Was Kent supposed to give a tour? Was he supposed to offer the guest room so Holster wouldn’t feel obligated to spend every minute of the day by his side? Would he want to spend as much time together as possible? Kent had no clue what to do. These were unknown waters he was tredding. The nerves were something he kept hidden at least, even during the ride to his floor in the elevator and as he unlocked the front door. 

“Welcome to the Parse Pad, as the team calls it,” Kent said with a smirk, relishing in the short chuckle that got from Holster. They hadn’t even shut the door behind them before Kit was running over, her greeting meows more like yowls. She hadn’t appreciated being left alone, never really did. Kent scooped up the fluffy gray cat, pressing a kiss to the top of her head between her ears, his customary greeting for her, before looking at Holster, who was giving him such a soft look Kent thought he was going to melt. 

“The Insta Famous Kit herself, I’m honored,” Holster said with a smile, bending down a bit to look at her. It wasn’t too much of a first meeting. First in person, but Kit was a curious enough cat that she often nosed her way in on skype calls and sniffed at his face on the screen. Still, Kent kept a grip on her. She wasn’t exactly the friendliest cat, yet he found himself surprised when her squashed face lit up and she wiggled forward to lick Holster’s nose. Holster went cross eyed to look at his nose, and Kent let out a surprised laugh. “I think she likes me!” Holster exclaimed, petting Kit before she grew tired of being held and squirmed out of Kent’s grip, walking away after brushing against both their legs. 

“She’s got good taste like her dad,” Kent said, waving it off with a small smile. It was a big deal, and it did make his heart flutter seeing the immediate approval from his fur baby. He didn’t get to dwell on it though. He’d opened his mouth to offer to show Holster around, or at the least carry his suitcase to a room, only to be interrupted from a loud gasp. 

Kent looked back at Holster, noting his wide eyes and shocked expression. Did Kent leave out something embarrassing? A mountain of dirty laundry? Did Kit shit somewhere in the middle of the room? He didn’t know what was so shocking until he turned, following Holster’s gaze. “You have a piano?” Holster asked as Kent’s eyes landed on the baby grand piano in the corner, sleek and black, standing out against the rest of the furniture. 

“Oh. Yeah. I got that like… Two years ago, I think? Three? When did I get my bonus?” Kent asked, shrugging his shoulders. “Rich people always have pianos. So I wanted in on that. It looks cool there,” he explained, though the look of wonder hadn’t left Holster’s face. “I’m even starting to learn it now,” Kent said, puffing out his chest slightly in a show of pride. 

He wasn’t paying for lessons or anything. He didn’t have the time for that, and he didn’t want to get chirped by the rest of the Aces about it. They already teased him for having a piano just for the aesthetic anyway. But YouTube was a thing, and there were plenty of tutorials online or in books. Kent wanted some sort of new hobby, and he figured that was as good as anything, to put the money spent to good use. He was definitely proud of that investment of his time when Holster’s look of wonder was turned to him. 

“You play? Can you play something for me? I love piano!” Holster gushed, and this was where Kent hated his big mouth. He was learning, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a Mozart yet. He knew he was only a beginner, but he definitely talked a big game when he wanted to. He didn’t want to disappoint Holster or embarrass himself. Mama Parson didn’t raise a quitter though, and Kent wasn’t about to chicken out. He just gave a cocky smile like he would on the ice, stretching on his tiptoes to kiss Holster’s cheek, giving a nod of his head before pulling him over to the piano. 

“Watch and learn,” he said, pulling the bench out with a flourish. Kent sat himself down, staring at the keys a moment, trying to remember something he taught himself. It took a second to remember where middle C was, but when he spotted it, he set his hands down, shoulders a bit slouched. He only had one hand set on the keys, his fingers curved a bit awkwardly, hunched up over the keys and wrist held too high as he plucked his fingers over the keys. “Mary Had a Little Lamb” sounded from the piano, smooth and without any hiccups. Kent even threw in “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” for good measure and to play a bit longer. 

It took effort not to blush. These were children’s songs, these weren’t exactly all that amazing to show off with. But damn if Kent wasn’t proud he was teaching himself. He needed something to do with his time when the season ended sooner than he had hoped. This was something fun to try to do, even if he frustrated himself with learning how to read the sheet music. 

When the notes ended and silence filled the air for a second, Kent was almost afraid to look at Holster. He felt brief surprise when he heard clapping take the place of the piano notes, only to grin when he looked at Holster, watching his boyfriend cheer enthusiastically. “That was great, Kenny! You’re amazing at it!” Kent knew that was a load of bullshit. He was a grown man playing children's’ music on a piano he only bought for appearances, but he couldn’t help the flush of pride that swept through him at the compliment. There was a pause, before Holster tilted his head, sliding a bit closer to settle beside Kent on the piano bench. “I know some piano too. Can I show off for you now, Maestro?” he asked. 

“Sure thing, babe. Play for me,” Kent said, motioning to the keys with a little smirk. The wording made him think Holster was in the same boat as him. A few lessons maybe, probably also self taught if anything. He had to stifle a laugh when Holster stretched, cracking his knuckles as he shook out his hands a bit dramatically over the keys. That laugh and smirk disappeared when Holster actually began to play. 

Holster didn’t play “Hot Cross Buns” or “Chopsticks” or any other goofy little tune like Kent expected. There wasn’t a “Yankee Doodle” or even a “Happy Birthday to You” tune. Nothing simple. Holster sat up, straight and propper, with his hands much more relaxed over the keys, wrists lower and fingers seeming much more natural despite the larger size of his hands than Kent’s own had been. They danced over the keys in a classical song Kent didn’t even recognize, with a practiced ease and fluidity. Kent found himself starring as Holser’s fingers danced over the keys like they were made to do it. There was just something about watching his normally goofy boyfriend settle in so naturally to something so beautiful, graceful in a way that his hulking figure normally didn’t appear capable of. He was competent in a way Kent could only dream of, beautiful music filling the apartment, the likes of which had never before danced through the air of his living room before beyond perhaps if they were played on a dramatic film on his TV. 

As the notes faded, Kent could still only stare, a bit dumbfounded, unable to find his voice for a moment. The seriousness and focus left Holster’s face as he looked to Kent, only to snort at the shock on his features. “What? I said I could play,” he said, nudging Kent gently. 

Kent shook his head, letting out a soft sputter. “You said you know some! What the hell was that?” he asked, motioning between Holster and the keys, only for Holster to shrug. 

“Chopin. Nocturne nine, number one. Memorized forever because I played it so much. I think I used it in two recitals?” Holster explained simply. Of course he did. Kent was dating a giant man who was a terrifying defensemen, who cried over television shows, and who could hardly handle a runny nose without claiming he was dying, who was also apparently a damn musical prodigy that knew Chopin. 

“You were absolutely amazing at it. Stop being so modest,” Kent demanded, before his eyes widened slightly and he slapped his arm. “You totally let me make an idiot of myself! You sat there watching me play easy shit because I’m just learning! And then you bust out the performance level stuff!” 

Now it was Holster who blushed slightly. “I did think you were good, though! You’re just learning, and the fact you got any of this down is awesome, Kenny! I just…” He huffed, pouting dramatically at Kent. “I wanted to show off for my boyfriend, is that a crime? Also… This is a beautiful piano and I was excited to play on something so nice!” 

Kent kept the annoyed look for another moment longer, before slowly grinning. He shuffled closer to Holster’s side, so they were pressed hip to hip, resting his head on his shoulder. “I guess you can make it up to me. Maybe help me learn more or something, because YouTube is obviously not cutting it. But for now, play more pretty music. Serenade me, Piano Man.” He could hear Holster chuckle, murmuring a soft agreement to placate Kent before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

As gentle music began to fill the air, soft and sweet, Kent let his eyes flutter shut, relaxing into Holster’s side. He had his boyfriend there, playing music and making his home come alive in a way he hadn’t imagined it would before. Kent felt more at home than his nerves made him think he would have felt; Kent felt more at home than he ever had in his life, all because of a pretty, goofy, wonderful boy and an impulsively purchased piano.


End file.
